


My year with Emma - June 9th

by postmortem



Series: 365 Days [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmortem/pseuds/postmortem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina Mills and Emma Swan had one year together. This a series of stories from those 365 days. They are not in chronological order.</p><p>All parts of the series can be read as stand-alone pieces.</p><p>Please be aware that this piece contains pretty graphic and explicit depictions of sexual abuse, implied incest, and trauma. Be safe!</p>
            </blockquote>





	My year with Emma - June 9th

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I have ever posted. I'm nervous as hell!
> 
> Again, please be aware that in this part, I'm writing about bad things like sexual abuse and violence. Don't hurt yourself by reading, be responsible with yourself please!

“Let go, Regina”, she says, whispering, with so much love, I almost can't handle it.

* * *

Breakdown.

She knows about my past, knows about King Leopold. Not everything, never everything. I would rather die than burden her with details. She knows that he took me whenever he wanted to, and that it was always against my free will. She calls it rape, and I used to get sick at the mention of that word. Now I have pushed away the meaning of it. Emma knows that I was raped, over and over again. I can even say it now, and she is proud of me when I do.

Emma doesn’t know about the humiliation, or that he got off on making me cry. The more I cried, the harder he got. I stopped crying in spite of him.

She doesn’t know that early on, he called me Eva as he came.

She doesn’t know that my mother once drunkenly told him that I was a frigid bitch, and they had a good laugh. And she dared him to make me orgasm, teasing him that he wouldn't be able to. I was sitting right there with them, hating them, hating myself. The next night, I woke up with his tongue between my legs and my mother’s fingers inside of me so she could feel me contract when I came. And I did. The worst betrayal had come from my own body, and I hate it to this day. Later, my mother called me a whore and a liar. And I guess I was.

It was the only time Cora Mills ever lost a bet.

Emma doesn’t know all this.

And she definitely doesn’t know that I offered to let Leopold call me Snow White in the bedroom, after I had caught him masturbating at his daughter's open window, while she was bathing. He made me braid my hair before bed, and wear white nightgowns with little bows. And after that day, whenever he spilled his load into me, his body shuddering and spasming on top of me, he would always moan _her_ name. With actual tears in his eyes. He never called me Eva ever again. And I made sure he never laid a hand on his daughter.

Emma didn't know the half of it, and she was very aware of that fact. And she’d been worried. She’d been worried that it would break me, come crashing down on me. I had been telling her that if acts can't break me, memories certainly can't. But despite my reassurance, she’d been terrified of hurting me, of triggering any memories and feelings that she never wanted me to have to go through again.

I will never understand why she cares so much, not after all the pain I have caused her.

And now it happened, my memories caught up with me. But not because she hurt me. No, as always, I managed to do that all by myself.

She was on her knees on the floor, face between my legs, me on the bed, one of her arms around my thigh and hip, hand on my belly, pushing me down gently, fingers of her other hand inside me, fucking me. Her lips, her tongue, making love to me. Telling me how much she loves the way I taste. And I could feel my insides pushing down, preparing to spill when she made me come spectacularly, as only Emma could. And the anticipation of it happening was amazing, because I knew how much she loved it when she could turn me on so much I lost all my inhibitions.

And then, when I felt myself racing towards climax, something changed. I grabbed at my throat roughly, unconsciously, and as soon as my hand connected with my skin, the voices started. His voice. And then it was his hand choking me, and I couldn't breathe. The more I struggled, the tighter my grip became, the louder his voice, the stronger his smell. _“Daddy loves you, my princess.”_ My nails breaking skin. Deeper. _“Daddy is making you feel good, isn’t he?”_ Drawing blood. Eyes wide open, seeing nothing. _“Daddy is so close now, baby.”_ No control over my hand, scratching, cutting, squeezing. Seeing stars.

_“Is daddy allowed to come inside his princess?”_

“Yes, daddy”, I whispered.

And then I came. My body went rigid as I was taken over by a mindnumbing orgasm, and the panic that was swallowing me was unlike anything I had ever felt. I was suffocating. I was dying.

Then, a desperate gasp, and my lungs filled with air, and Emma looked at me, questioning, no doubt, if I had really just called her daddy, and wondering if she should say something.

And then, sheer horror in her eyes, her face. The thin lines of blood trickling down my neck, my hand clutching my throat, my eyes empty… somehow, she just knew. She removed her hands from me, softly, and sat up on the bed, beside me, but not touching me, except to gently pull my own hand from where it was choking me. She pulled the blanket over my naked body. I curled up into myself, my back turned to her. Fleeing, escaping.

“I’m right here, my love.” I could hear her, I knew she was there, but I couldn’t reach her. She couldn’t reach me either. I had gone to another place, a world she had no portal to, no key. I knew this world well. It had been my safe place ever since my - ever since the man I was once forced to marry had first started to humiliate me, rape me, mutilate me. And though I trusted her more than I trusted myself, Emma could never know all of this. It didn’t kill me, but it would kill her. So I just left my body, my head. I went to that place deep inside of me. The place where nothing could hurt me. The place where I go when reality isn’t an option anymore. 

She knew better than to touch me right now. I was overwhelmed by the amount of love flooding through my body. I wanted nothing more than to lean into her, feel the safety of her strong arms. Yet nothing seemed further from what I could bear to do in that moment. I was not sure my limbs could move even if I tried. I felt ashamed. I felt guilty, embarrassed. I felt worthless.

She said “I’m here. Right here. It’s just you and me, and you are safe. I promise. Go to sleep my love, I will be here when you wake up.” And so I did.

* * *

When I wake up, she is still there, right beside me. Like she promised. I am facing her now, and although her eyes are closed, I can tell that she is awake. I reach out my hand, and wrap a strand of her hair around my fingers. A smile spreads on her face, and she opens her eyes. I smile back at her. There are no words to describe how much I love her.

A second later, I am shaken by uncontrollable sobs, and I let her see me like this, and my pain turns me inside out, and she cries with me. She puts her arms around me, and wraps me up as tightly as she dares. She pulls my head to her chest, and kisses the top of it. I am soaking the fabric of her shirt with my tears, and I'm shaking violently. And I know that this is it, this is my breakdown. And I crawl into her, and feel bare and raw, and I feel safer than I ever have. And I stay with her, in the here and now, and I cry, and I fall, and she is there to catch me.

“Let go, Regina”, she says, whispering, with so much love, I almost can’t handle it.


End file.
